by Jason Fry
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Diocletia said. “We’re twenty minutes away from Tycho’s asteroid, so let’s go over the plan. Vesuvia, put the schematic of the Leviathan on the main screen.”
“Acknowledged,” Vesuvia said, and all on the quarterdeck peered at the deck plan.
“I want two boarding parties—one to take the bridge, the other to secure the engine room. I’ll lead the bridge party—Carlo, Tycho, and Yana, you’ll be with me. I’d like you along as well, Mr. Dobbs, with five crewers of your choosing.”
Tycho and Yana glanced at each other in surprise—during a boarding action their mother normally remained on the quarterdeck, and often kept Yana back as well to watch the sensors.
Diocletia saw the look and knew what it meant.
“The other privateers will be our eyes and ears,” she explained. “The key is to get the Leviathan flying as quickly as we can, so Captain Allamand thinks twice about risking another fight over her. Dad and Mr. Grigsby will take the engine room with eight crewers as backup. We take control of the bridge, get the engines online, and fly her at maximum speed to Cybele. Earth won’t fight to take her back so close to there, not with everyone watching.”
“Will two teams of ten be enough, Captain?” Grigsby asked. “That’s a big ship.”
“I suspect Allamand will have only a skeleton crew aboard. Recall that he gave all the Leviathans parole, and he doesn’t have enough crewers to have replaced them. And if we’re wrong, we fall back to the Comet, disengage, and decide things in space.”
“What about other Earth ships defending the site?” Yana asked.
“Doubt we’ll find any. With all the sweeps we’ve done in that area, one of our privateers would have turned up ion trails.”
“Tycho’s asteroid is too small to hold both the Leviathan and her long-range tanks,” Carlo said.
Diocletia nodded. “They probably ditched them for retrieval later. Still, the Leviathan should have enough fuel in her maneuvering tanks for a straight shot to Cybele. After that, refueling her will be her owners’ problem. For now, Carlo, make sure you simulate piloting a dromond—the Leviathan won’t maneuver like a frigate, to say the least.”
Tycho looked around the quarterdeck. Mavry was smiling as if they were on a pleasure excursion, but Tycho knew he was examining various scenarios in his head, sorting through what was of concern and what wasn’t. Carlo was already browsing through Vesuvia’s library of flight sims, Yana was leaning forward in her harness, and Huff was grinning at some private thought, his forearm cannon jerking eagerly.
“I want all boarders in spacesuits in case Allamand’s people have purged the dromond’s atmosphere—or decide to do so as a defense,” Diocletia said. “The key is to hit them hard and fast. Got it? Good. We’ve all got jobs to do, so let’s get to them.”
The asteroid designated 124996 looked like any other chunk of rock until the Comet closed to within two kilometers and Yana detected energy readings. Closer inspection revealed that the asteroid was little more than a shell—thin layers of rock separated by a grid of metal, with a large opening at one end.
“Definitely reading a second mass within the asteroid—and chemical signature indicates it’s artificial,” Yana said. Like Carlo, Tycho, and Diocletia, she was wearing a bulky spacesuit that her harness could barely contain, with her visor raised and gloves off. Huff was in the gig with Grigsby and the rest of the first boarding party, waiting for the order to detach.
“Garibalda, we’re going in,” Diocletia said over her headset.
“We’ll let you know if anyone’s coming,” Andrade replied. “Good luck, Comet.”
The Comet left the other privateers behind and swept down toward the asteroid. Carlo cut the frigate’s forward momentum, tapped her retro rockets, and eased the Comet into the shadowy confines of the asteroid.
“Vesuvia, bring up the bow lights,” he said.
Ahead, they could see a trio of engines in the gloom, looming like massive mouths.
Yana whistled. “Definitely the Leviathan. Nothing else out here would have that engine configuration.”
“This rock has only one entrance, right?” Tycho asked.
“Afraid so,” Carlo said, scowling. “We’ll have to back her out.”
“Can you do it?” Diocletia asked. The question wasn’t a challenge or a taunt, but a captain’s need to know.
“I’m not looking forward to it, but I think so. I don’t suppose Captain Andrade could blast off the other end?”
“As long as you don’t mind the roof falling on us,” Mavry said. He was the only one on the quarterdeck still wearing his usual shipboard jumpsuit—he’d be responsible for flying the Comet out of the asteroid ahead of the Leviathan.
“I’m against that,” Carlo said.
The massive dromond was shrouded in darkness—even her running lights had been extinguished. The Comet crept along her port beam, passing her aft airlock and the first freight docking ring.
“She looks intact,” Yana said. “I can’t see any damage from the intercept.”
“That’s good,” Diocletia said. “Tycho, is anybody hailing us? Any transmissions from the asteroid?”
“Negative on both counts.”
“Garibalda, anything on your scopes?”
“Negative—nobody out here for now except us.”
Diocletia switched channels on her headset.
“Dad, cast off,” she said. “We’re heading for the forward airlock. Wait for my signal to board.”
“Headin’ out, Dio,” Huff said, and a moment later the Comet shivered slightly as the clamps holding the gig against her belly released.
The bells signaled 2330 as the blank slab of the Leviathan’s hull slid by to starboard. To port, Tycho knew, the web of girders was no more than thirty meters away. He realized he’d been holding his breath and forced himself to exhale.
“This must have been a shipyard once,” he said. “A big one, too. What are the odds that the Cybeleans didn’t know it was being used?”
“Zero,” Diocletia said. “Our hosts seem to have struck secret deals with everyone except the Jovian Union. Mr. Dobbs? Stand by.”
Carlo’s eyes jumped between the viewports and images from the Comet’s starboard cameras as he lined up the frigate’s starboard airlock with the dromond’s forward portside lock. Tycho could only shake his head in admiration as his brother cut right, tapped the retro rockets, and eased the ship up against the far larger vessel.
“Vesuvia, deploy magnetic grapples. Good. We’re locked.”
“Let’s go,” Diocletia said, unbuckling herself from her chair and cinching her gloves tight.
Mavry checked Diocletia’s suit seals, then leaned his forehead against hers briefly.
“Shoot straight and keep our kids out of trouble,” he said quietly.
“See you soon,” Diocletia said with a smile, one glove lingering on his cheek.
Tycho followed his mother down the ladderwell, with Yana and Carlo behind him.
“Captain Hashoone on deck!” bellowed Dobbs.
The Comet’s master-at-arms was waiting at the starboard airlock with a knot of crewers behind him. The Comets came to attention with a clatter of bootheels, eyes wide at the rare sight of their captain geared up for war. Their spacesuits were a riot of paint, decals, drawings, and scrawled graffiti—predators of species real and imagined competed for space with dire threats in multiple languages and prayers for deliverance addressed to several higher powers. The Comets clutched carbines and daggers in their fists and adjusted bandoliers holding ammunition and flash grenades.
The Comet’s airlock was open, and two crewers, Celly and Porco, were wiring up the Leviathan’s hatch, seeking to override its controls. They got to their feet as the Hashoones approached, but Diocletia immediately indicated they should continue with their work.
“Boarding party of ten,” Dobbs said, handing two chrome musketoons to Diocletia. “Ranking officer’s weapons.”
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nbsp; “Thank you, Mr. Dobbs,” Diocletia said, looking at each crewer in turn. “Fast and hard to the bridge, ladies and gentlemen. That starship was stolen from our countrymen, and we intend to restore it to them.”
“Three cheers for Captain Hashoone!” the crewers yelled.
Diocletia nodded. “Mr. Dobbs, you’ll take point.”
Dobbs made a quick sign of the cross above his pockmarked chest armor.
“Mistress Yana, on my left,” he said. “Higgs and Corso behind Captain Hashoone, Master Tycho, and Master Carlo. Rest of you at the rear. Use your flash grenades and don’t cross each other’s paths.”
Yana edged past Tycho to stand next to Dobbs. Tycho flipped off the safety on his carbine and touched the flash grenades on his bandolier, memorizing where they were.
“Ready to open her up, Captain,” Dobbs said.
“Dad, what’s your status?” Diocletia asked. “Good—we’re going in. Do it, Mr. Dobbs.”
“You know the entry procedure,” Dobbs said to Yana, then nodded at Celly and Porco. The Leviathan’s outer airlock door rose slowly, compelled by the privateers’ electronic tools. Dobbs flung a flash grenade through the opening, and Tycho heard the explosive device bouncing across the deck.
Wind rippled the stickers on the Comets’ spacesuits as the two ships’ atmospheres mixed. The Jovians ducked their heads as the grenade detonated inside the Leviathan, filling the captured ship with blinding light. Tycho’s faceplate automatically darkened against the glare.
Yana and Dobbs stepped across the threshold into the airlock. It was two meters deep; two meters beyond it was a T intersection.
Yana and Dobbs rushed forward into the intersection, with Yana dropping to her knees as Dobbs stayed on his feet. They flung flash grenades to either side; a moment later Tycho’s visor darkened and sharp concussions made static cough in his ears. Diocletia strode forward, with Carlo and Tycho flanking her.
Two men in Earth uniforms were lying on their faces on either side of the intersection, hands over their eyes, blood dribbling from their noses. Their carbines were lying useless on the deck. None of the four was wearing a breath mask or spacesuit.
“Secure these men,” Dobbs barked to the Comets bringing up the rear, and two hurried up, binding the fallen Earth crewers’ wrists with zip ties.
“If that’s the best they could do, no one aboard has combat training,” Yana said, looking down at the men on the deck.
“You don’t know that,” Diocletia said. “There could be Earth marines deeper in the ship, trying to draw us in. Stay sharp and don’t assume.”
“The captain’s right,” Dobbs said. “Come on—forward.”
The Comets were in a long, dimly lit passageway running the length of the Leviathan’s port beam. Tycho tried to remember the dromond’s layout. There should be a junction twenty meters ahead, with the ladderwell to the bridge perhaps the same distance beyond that.
Dobbs and Yana jogged down the passageway, their breathing labored in the heavy suits. Diocletia hurried after them, with Carlo and Tycho at her heels.
“We’re outside the engine room,” Huff growled over their shared channel.
“Resistance?” Diocletia asked.
“Arr, they’re tryin’. But they ain’t got the numbers to make it a fair fight.”
Yana and Dobbs stopped short of the junction, flinging grenades left and right. They went through the intersection low and fast, chased by laser fire.
Diocletia rushed forward, dropping to one knee as two Earth crewers emerged from cover and fired their carbines at Yana and Dobbs. A burst from her carbine left one Earth crewer lying on the deck; the other scrambled across the passageway for cover.
“Keep going!” Diocletia ordered as Yana turned to see what had happened.
Tycho pulled a flash grenade from his belt and twisted its cap to arm it. He counted one, one thousand, two, one thousand, and then tossed it to bounce into the portside corridor, knowing Carlo was doing the same with the starboard corridor.
Diocletia skidded to a halt in the corridor, blasts from her carbine lighting up the passageway. Tycho was a step behind his brother. One Earth crewer was lying motionless on his back; two others were on their knees, arms raised in surrender.
“Zip ties,” Tycho barked at the Comets, keeping his carbine on the crewers. Ahead, Yana and Dobbs were hurrying back the way they’d come.
“They’ve sealed the bridge,” Dobbs said. “We’ll need charges. Celly, get up here.”
Celly bared her pointy, black ceramic teeth behind the visor of her helmet.
“Quarter of a kilo ought to do it—don’t want to make too big a hole,” she said, chuckling as she extracted a lump of gray explosive from a pouch on her belt.
“Porco, cover her,” Dobbs said, standing aside as the two Comets hurried forward. “Won’t take but a minute, Captain.”
The lights dimmed and a moment later the Comets’ feet rose from the deck as the artificial gravity cut out. Tycho activated the magnets in his boots and gloves and adhered himself to the wall. With their hands tied, the luckless Earth crewers had no such option—they floated up to the ceiling and were stuck there. Two of the Comets grabbed the captives’ wrists, dragging them back down the passageway like big blue balloons.
“Cutting the gravity helps us more than them,” Yana said with a wolfish grin.
She removed her helmet and sent it spinning down the passageway with a casual toss, then started to shed her spacesuit. Her hair floated around her head like a cloud.
“Is that a good idea?” Carlo asked.
“Can’t move in that thing,” Yana said, adjusting her headset. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
Diocletia turned to Dobbs, only to see the master-at-arms also shedding his suit.
“Your daughter’s the best student I’ve ever had, Captain,” he said.
Diocletia frowned, then nodded. “All right then.”
“Engine room’s secured,” Huff growled in their ears. “No damage. We’re bringing the engines online now.”
“We’ll be on the bridge in another minute,” Diocletia said.
“Another minute? We ain’t gettin’ paid by the hour, Dio.”
Diocletia ignored that—Celly and Porco were retreating back down the passageway by hurling themselves from one wall to the next.
“Ten seconds,” Celly said with a feral grin. “I’d take cover.”
The Comets ducked to either side of the intersection, spreading their hands and feet to stick themselves to the wall. A thunderclap of sound filled their ears and a shock wave of air shoved at them before dissipating.
“Go!” Dobbs said.
Tycho clawed his way into the passageway in time to see Yana launch herself down the corridor with Dobbs behind her. She alighted for a split second on the wall, then sprang down the passageway, seeming to pick up speed as she went.
“Come on!” Diocletia yelled.
Yana reached the ladderwell feetfirst, hooking it with her boots. That left her floating on her back, firing her carbine straight up to clear the hatchway. As the blaster’s recoil pushed her upper body toward the deck, she used the momentum to roll herself into a ball, touching down on the deck with her knees bent. She threw a flash grenade above her underhanded, then sprang after it, arms raised, as light filled the passageway. Dobbs rushed after her, hands and feet kicking at the rungs of the ladderwell.
Tycho reached the ladderwell a step ahead of his mother and scrambled upward, trying to keep his feet beneath him. He emerged on the Leviathan’s broad bridge to find his sister floating serenely in midair, a carbine aimed in either direction. One Earth crewer was dead, while three others had their hands up. Through the dromond’s broad viewports Tycho saw a wall of rock crisscrossed by the lines of gantries and observation decks.
“Bridge secured,” Yana said with a smile.
“I’ll get the gravity restored,” Diocletia said as Dobbs and the other Comets fastened zip ties around the wris
ts of the bridge crew. “Carlo, get us flying. Yana, sensors up. Tycho, make contact with Captain Andrade and your father.”
Carlo was already strapping himself into the pilot’s chair. Tycho overshot the navigator’s station and had to struggle back to it by hauling himself along the tops of the other consoles. Yana kicked neatly over to the bulkhead behind the sensor officer’s station, executing a forward roll that ended with her behind planted in the chair.
She grinned at Tycho.
“Nobody likes a show-off, sis,” he grumbled as he strapped himself in.
“Gravity’s coming up in five,” Diocletia warned, and the Comets tugged the captive Earth crewers down to the deck so they wouldn’t plummet out of the air. Tycho sagged in his seat as gravity once more pushed him down.
“They’ve locked out the piloting station,” Carlo said.
“Really?” Diocletia glared at the three captured crewers through the bowl of her helmet. “Which of you is ranking officer?”
A distinguished-looking man with gray hair stepped forward. “Tyrus Sanford, of the Loire.”
“Captain Diocletia Hashoone, of the Shadow Comet. I’d appreciate it if you’d help us get up and running, Mr. Sanford.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Captain. I have my orders to secure this ship at all costs.”
“I see,” Diocletia said, drumming her fingers on her console. “Mr. Dobbs, please get your spacesuit and my daughter’s.”
“Will do, Captain,” Dobbs said, clanking off across the deck.
“Captain Andrade is reporting Earth ships are inbound,” Tycho said. “Twenty-five thousand klicks and closing.”
“Understood,” Diocletia said, turning her attention back to Sanford. “I’d very much like to avoid any further loss of life, Mr. Sanford.”
“As I said, Captain, I have my orders.”
Dobbs reappeared on the ladderwell, two spacesuits slung over his shoulder and helmets dangling from a loop on his belt.
“Thank you, Mr. Dobbs,” Diocletia said. “Dad? Make sure all your crewers are suited up. I’m going to open the Leviathan to space.”